


Lords of Genosha (The Dissimulation Remix)

by a_q



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Flirting, Football | Soccer, Gen, Remix, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 22:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1566125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_q/pseuds/a_q
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the Genoshan court, everyone conceals something from themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lords of Genosha (The Dissimulation Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kernezelda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kernezelda/gifts).
  * Inspired by [For Velvetcadence](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/48209) by Kernezelda. 



> Thank you for Significantowl for beta work, all mistakes are mine.

The ball bounced over the chalk line and the spectators sighed in disappointment. Charles applauded anyway, it had been a good try. His company followed his example and there was a short spatter of applause as the players searched for new positions on the field. Charles shaded his eyes, looking around the field. It was only a practice match leading to the official opening tournament, but there was still a good crowd gathered in the shadow of the oak trees. The field was new, freshly built on this spot and people were interested to see it.

But that was only a part of their interest. Charles could tell without much effort that the people wanted to catch a glimpse of him and Lady Moira. She had arrived in the court as a guest of the Foreign Embassy, and if by coincidence, Charles had ended up as her host. It was just the machinations of the court, but still the marriage rumors had started to spread like wildfire. 

_'Stop fretting, the point of this little outing was her to be seen,'_ Emma whispered, the way they had spoke to each other since they had been children. _'Besides, she's charming. They will love her, if you do.'_

_'Please, not you too! She has been here for a week, that's not enough time to get to know her.'_

_'You would if you agreed to deep-read her.'_

_'No.'_

She sat next to him, the brim of her hat shielding her face from the sun. When she turned her head to glance at him, the turquoise feathers arching over the top turned and fluttered restlessly. The other ladies of the court hadn't yet turned to the brighter seasonal colors, but Emma was always a step ahead when it came to the trends. In few days, everyone would have a hat just like it, and she would've moved on to something different. 

”The team needs practice, but the captain does have some natural skill,” Emma commented out loud for the benefit of the company. She flashed a demure smile at him while projecting _'...and shapely legs'._

Charles tried to hide his amusement while giving Emma a disapproving mental nudge. She smiled and waved her fan under her face with a disparaging little flick. _'Please. She admires his legs too. Not even eavesdropping on the surface thoughts?'_

_'No.'_

“You know this game better than we do, Lady Moira. What do you think of our teams?” he asked, turning to her and ignoring Emma's frowning.

”They play well together, if this is only their fourth game.” Lady Moira sat on his right, holding a green parasol to shield her from the direct sunlight. “I trust their tactical offense improves with practice.” 

”We shall see what they can do, now that they have a proper field and an opposing team to play with,” Charles noted with a smile and there was a polite laughter from the company seated around him. It wasn't that witty, but Lady Moira smiled. 

Charles was glad that she seemed to enjoy his company. He had tried his best to come up with entertainment that would amuse her as well, but the soccer game had been her suggestion for the afternoon.

The referee blew his whistle and the discussion quieted during the penalty kick. Charles knew that was for his benefit as well. His company didn't enjoy this new sport as much he did, but no one voiced their objection. Charles had to admit that soccer wasn't as fast-paced as the powered games, but he had chosen to patron it for the egalitarian aspect. He appreciated the tactics required in the game, and that the teams consisted of both powered and neutral players.

Which made Charles appreciate Lady Moira's choice even more. It gave a good impression to watch the game with her. She was a neutral, as were all who married in the royal family of Genosha. It was an important gesture for equality, but it tended to leave the spouses at a disadvantage in court life. That was why Charles had asked Emma to keep her company, steer her through the more confusing customs of the powered court. Emma had understood his meaning more as a 'bodyguard', less as 'lady in waiting', but Lady Moira seemed to take her presence in stride. Either way, Charles was thankful for Emma's support, especially if this visit would truly end in the engagement. 

Though his patronage was the official explanation for his interest in soccer, there was other reason. He enjoyed observing one player, the captain of the Westchester Wolverines, Lord Erik Lehnsherr. He had seen him play a powered sport last year, displaying skill in elemental control. Metal, specifically. That was a rare power, and he had caused some interest during the season. 

A year had filled out Lehnsherr's body, given him muscle and flexibility that he used to his full advantage on the field. He had grown into his height too, taller than others on his team. Charles didn't know what had happened to make him change his interest to this new sport, but it was a curious shift. Last season he had spoken against the neutral referees in the powered finals, but now he didn't care that half of his team were neutral players. 

The ball bounced between the offense and defense, the both captains shouting directions to get the ball where they needed it. The teams tried their best but their eagerness caused the ball bounce around uncontrollably, the players kicking it with too much or too little force. Lehnsherr made a break for it, aiming for the goal but the ball snapped on the wooden pole and rolled off to the side. Another sigh from the audience, followed by a new round of applause. 

“Wonder if it's the onlookers that cause all the hesitation. They haven't managed a single goal,” Charles observed. 

“I hope not, there's bound to be more audience soon,” Lady Moira said, reaching for a glass of chilled elderberry juice the servant offered to her. “Soccer is a popular sport among the young men of my mother's court.”

“I do hope it gets popular here as well,” Emma said with a smirk, snapping her fan. “I do like their uniforms, such a clever cut on the back. Quite pleasing to the eye.” 

_'Careful,'_ Charles whispered to her. _'She might not appreciate your humor.'_

Emma turned to ask some question from Lady Moira, while projecting to him: _'Calm down, she isn't as serious as you think. Take a look at her surface thoughts?'_

 _'Stop it, I mean it.'_

_'If you insist.'_

The referee blew the whistle again, signaling the end of the game. The score board showed zeroes on both sides. The crowd applauded as the captains shook hands and the teams gathered to the side for a drink of water. 

The crowd started to break, people turning to return to their afternoon. Charles stood up and offered his hand to Lady Moira, who took it with a polite nod. Emma stood up briskly on her own and reached to take Moira's arm, pulling her to her side with a bright smile. 

“I'm sorry that the game was so sluggish, I'm sure you've seen better. How many teams did you say you have? One for every town?” 

Moira started to explain the leagues to her, and Emma nodded along though her mind was a restless whirl, which meant she hardly listened. The servants started to break down their little picnic and Charles led the company down the grassy hill toward the park avenue that would lead them back to their carriages. 

The road took them past the players bench. Some of them were already walking away in a boisterous group, arguing where to get lunch, some were still gathering their things. 

Charles used the opportunity to take a closer look of Lord Lehnsherr. He discussed with the opposite team captain, holding a glass of water in his hand. There was grass caught in his damp hair, swooped away from his eyes. His shirt draped awkwardly over his shoulders and chest, sticking to his sweaty skin. The servant held out his coat and he tugged it on, moving the glass from one hand to other while continuing the conversation. Lehnsherr looked around and noticed him, his expression changing. He stopped talking and turned to bow, the rest of the men quickly following his example. Charles nodded in reply, and Lehnsherr turned back to his conversation, his shoulders tensing under the coat. 

Since Emma kept Lady Moira occupied with her discussion about the soccer uniforms, Charles dared to admire Lord Lehnsherr a moment longer than it would've been wise. He buttoned up his jacket, nodding to something his teammate said, and then looked up again. He flashed a smirk when he caught him still watching. 

Charles was about use his powers to skim his mind to get an idea what that smirk meant, but Emma tapped his mental shield to get his attention. He turned to look at her.

“Dear friend, I hope you join us in the evening? I have arranged the entertainment, Dame Adams has promised to sing us few pieces from her new role from the opera,” Emma said out loud, and added: _'Careful now, you don't want her to notice that you pant after him, do you?'_

Charles sent a mental scoff at her, but shored up his control anyway, keeping his thoughts level and his expression blank. 

“Thank you for the invitation,” he answered to her question, without directly agreeing or declining. Emma's parties tended to turn the talk of the town every time she arranged something, and not always in a good way. Charles didn't want to cause anymore talk at the moment. 

“Lady Moira, you will join us, won't you?” Emma said, turning back to her. _'I can invite him too, if that amuses you.'_ “Have you seen Dame Adams perform?”

 _'It's your evening and your guest list.'_

_'He is interesting, and it would cause some delicious gossip tomorrow. Don't you want a chance to talk with him? Opera is as good topic as anything,'_ Emma teased, her mental voice fluttering and turning like the feathers on her hat.

“Yes, I've had the pleasure,” Lady Moira said. “I saw Dame Adams sang in Aida last spring. I enjoyed it immensely.”

Emma turned to smile at him again and Charles put up a polite expression. “In that case, I would be honored if you let me to accompany you to Lady Emma's gathering.” 

She accepted, genuinely pleased, and with that it was settled. 

\- - -  
Charles arrived alone to Emma's house, but he waited in the foyer for Lady Moira to arrive, and greeted the other guests with her. That caused sparks of interest, and not all opinions were approving. Charles closed his ears from the babbling thoughts, keeping his interest firmly on his company. Lady Moira was in a happy mood, blissfully ignorant that some of the guests were thinking less charitable thoughts about her. She looked lovely too. Her evening dress was fashionably cut, the vivid hue complimenting her colors and she gathered some genuine compliments as they walked toward the large salon. 

The room wasn't as big as the main ballroom, but the acoustics were perfect, the high ceiling with the painted sky echoing music beautifully. The chairs were assembled in loose semi-circle, with small tables set between chairs for the audience to leave their refreshments. Dame Adams stood already near the grand piano as the guests searched for their seats. Charles led Lady Moira in the front row, and sat next to her. Emma sat behind them, with the advantage of keeping an eye on the whole room. 

There were empty seats left in the front row and it wasn't until the footmen closed the salon doors that someone sat to the last seat next to him. Charles turned to greet them with a short nod, and realized he was looking at Lord Lehnsherr. He returned his nod with a short bow and took the program set on the table, glancing at it. 

_'Oh, how clever,'_ he whispered to Emma, flicking her mental shield. 

_'Thank you. Enjoy,'_ she said with an amused flourish. Charles heard her snap her fan, and laugh to something another guest noted to her. 

Dame Adams took her place in the center, and the room quieted. She greeted the audience before beginning the first aria of the program. Charles kept his attention to her, instead giving in his curiosity and turning to look at Lord Lehnsherr. 

The aria was beautiful, but not as interesting as Dame Adams. Her mind flew along in orderly patterns, enlivened with enjoyment of her subject. It imbued the music with her emotion, which in turn made the technical elements shine. Charles could understand why she was so celebrated in her craft. The audience was captivated by the music so he braved a small glance to Lord Lehnsherr's direction. 

Maybe the practice in the morning and the game in the afternoon was too much exercise for one day, or maybe he wasn't interested with arts same way he was with sports, but either way, he had dozed off, his chin resting against his chest.

The chair had a high back, and his posture stayed sharp. Anyone looking at him would think he simply listened intently. Charles glanced at him again, noticing how long and elegant his lashes were against his high cheekbones.

He shifted in his sleep and his hand started to slide down, slow and steady. That couldn't be explained if someone saw it. Charles didn't think, he simply stretched his arm across the small distance between the chair and grabbed his wrist as his hand slid off his knee. He felt the spike of interest from persons sitting directly behind him, as well from Emma and Moira. He let go of his hand and continued the motion, to make it seem he had merely leaned to pick his program from the floor. He sat back up, focusing his attention back to Dame Adams, the flutter of her thoughts as she tried to communicate her enthusiasm for art through the music.

In his head, Emma smirked and send him childish kissy sounds. He glanced at her, and she tipped her fan, tilting her chin toward Erik. Charles send her equally childish mental reply; sticking his tongue out at her. 

_'I'll have him if you won't,'_ she said inside his head, her mental voice smoother and airier than her real voice. _'Too handsome to pass by.'_

Charles glanced him again. It would be interesting to know what he was dreaming about, but he didn't want to step over the lines he had drawn for himself. He refused to read the sleeping or the unconscious.

Dame Adams reached the final note and the audience broke to the applause. That startled Lord Lehnsherr awake, and he lifted his head, looking around blearily for a second before catching his composure. He applauded shortly and sat up straight, glancing around to see if someone had noticed. 

Charles smiled when he looked at him, and in a fit of madness, he took the small silver pen attached to the program and wrote on to the blank margin: Pleasant dreams? He turned the page to him and he stared at it, still looking like he was half-asleep. He frowned and a faint hint of color washed across his cheekbones.

Charles didn't find out his answer, as Dame Adams thanked them for the applause and started to explain the story behind her next aria. He could feel Emma playfully prod him to know what he had written, but he brushed her curiosity aside and skimmed through the audience to see if his actions would cause gossip. There was no outright intention to talk about him, but he could feel their interest piqued. 

_'Don't worry about it, I'll see to it,'_ Emma whispered, there and gone with a quick brush of her mind. 

_'Leave it be, it means nothing,'_ he replied with the same delicacy. 

_'You haven't listened what he's thinking at the moment about you?'_

_'Don't be lewd.'_

_'Tell it to him,'_ Emma whispered, with an amused flavor in her mental voice. 

He tried to keep his curiosity in check, but it was hard, especially since his telepathy tended to kick loose when he got excited. He reached to listen, only for a moment. His thoughts bumped clumsily against Charles’ mind, remnants of his cat-nap still lingering. He picked up equal amount of curiosity, a question unasked and barely thought - were his red lips as kissable as they looked?

 _'You'll have to try and find out,'_ Charles whispered to him, slipping the words in his mind softly like a floating feather. Lehnsherr stared determinedly straight ahead, but behind the stoic expression, his emotions careened from mortified to proud to thrilled anticipation.

Maybe it was that swirl of emotions, or the sleep induced vulnerability, but as Charles pushed a bit further to give him another playful reply, he stumbled into something dark and guarded in his mind.

In a split second he saw: _the thin metal coil slithering free from the seam of his coat, twisting and flexing around his hand like a living being, craning to listen to his command, wrapping around a pale neck, pulling back in bright 'twang', bloodied fingers clawing against the unrelenting metal._

Charles let go gasped and sat upright in his seat, scraping the chair legs on the tile floor with a grating squeal. Emma turned to stare at him, as did Lady Moira. He smiled apologetically, while trying desperately recall every detail, to understand what he had seen.

The image had been too cold for a memory, but the details had been fixed, tinted red with violence. Not an idle fantasy, but a plan, well thought out and practiced. Charles pushed back into Lehnsherr's mind, trying to get back to that dark place, to see the face of the victim. The image slipped and blurred as he tried to reach it, a barrier pushing him away. Someone had trained him to do it because Charles couldn't see anything else. Lehnsherr's plan was protected by a stream of nonsensical pictures.

Charles looked at him and he smiled back, flirting still. Either he didn't realize that Charles had seen that splinter of his true goal, or he was steadfast to continue with his seduction. Charles had a mad flashback to the soccer game, how he had moved on the field. Tactical and calculating. 

Charles felt the fear crawling in the back of his neck.

_'What happened?'_

_'He's a separatist. They're planning an attack, assassination. I don't know who the intended victim is, but I fear it's Moira. I have to get her to safety.'_

_'I want **every** detail of the intended victim,'_ Emma sent, with all the inevitability of a glacier's conquest. _'Until he works up the nerve to actually do something, we can't detain him, but I sure as hell can protect her. Get her out of here, I can cover you.”_

The aria ended and there was another round of applause. 

She never looked around at him but Charles nodded anyway, acquiescing mentally at the same time. He stood up calmly, tugging his coat straight and turned to Lady Moira, bowing. “Would you accompany me to the dining room for some refreshments?”

She looked confused, but Charles didn't give her a chance to form a polite refusal. He took her hand and she had no choice but stand up and follow him as he briskly walked her out the salon. She glanced back and gasped. Charles knew what Emma had done without looking. Everyone in the salon would be frozen in their seats, staring blankly ahead. 

Charles refused to read her, but he could see the red sparks of strong emotion around her head like a glowing halo. 

“I know this might appear strange to you, but try not to worry,” Charles said quietly, waving the servant to bring their coats. “You should return to the embassy for your own safety.”

“Is this one of the powered intricacies Lady Emma is supposed to shield me from?” she asked, the red spark turning more golden in hue. She was a fighter, and brave one in that. Charles blinked in surprise.

“You know about that?”

“I'm not stupid, and I didn't arrive here unprepared,” she noted. “The handsome soccer captain wants to kill me, doesn't he? One of those separatist fractions that don't like neutrals, or is this more...personal?” She looked him calmly when she said it.

Charles realized that his attention hadn't been all that discreet. He held her gaze.

“No. Not personal,” Charles said, with equal frankness. “We don't know what this is, but we will find out. I must admit, I didn't know you were this aware of the current political climate.”

“There's a lot you don't know,” she said, taking her coat from the servant. “But I can help you with Lehnsherr. Take me to the embassy, there's a file you should see.”

Charles took his coat and followed her outside to the calm spring night, looking at her with a newfound interest.


End file.
